


I Want To See You (In the Dark)

by ineffablebadger, QuestionableGeek (DemonicGeek)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Blackouts, Blow Jobs, Bombs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Sensory Deprivation, Sex in the Bookshop (Good Omens), Tender Sex, smut written by ace author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebadger/pseuds/ineffablebadger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicGeek/pseuds/QuestionableGeek
Summary: When it came down to it, Aziraphale had always loved Crowley. He had taken comfort in the fact that he is anangeland issupposedto love all of Her creations. The thought that he could love Crowley in a more specific way was something he had considered before but had kept in the far reaches of his mind like a shameful secret. As the thought began to break free, the feeling of love overwhelmed him in a not dissimilar way to the flames overwhelming the church. He tried not to consider the meaning of a church of the Lord burning to ash before his eyes as he realised that he isin lovewith ademon.Aziraphale and Crowley steal a night in the darkness hoping that they will remain unseen together in the blackout.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 182





	I Want To See You (In the Dark)

**Author's Note:**

> This story was co-written by myself and Caspian (QuestionableGeek). We originally intended for this to be around 2,000 words but things got a bit out of hand. Some things got _in hand _if you know what I mean.__

**London, 1941**

Aziraphale and Crowley stood together on the street outside what had, until recently, been the church of St Dunstan in the East. The consecrated wreckage smouldered around them and the altar that burned behind Aziraphale gave him the appearance of having wings made of fire. Crowley shuddered as the image of Aziraphale falling into a pit of burning sulphur, wings scorched, was pushed uncomfortably to the front of his mind.

“Oh, I forgot all the _books_!” Aziraphale exclaimed, his voice pulling Crowley away from his thoughts, “They’ll all be blown to-”

“Ash.” Crowley finished Aziraphale’s sentence as he walked across the rubble. He leaned forward and grabbed the brown bag of books from Harmony’s waiting, and very dead, hand.

“Little demonic miracle of my own,” he offered as nonchalantly as he could muster with a tip of his hat as he handed the angel the bag. He tried in vain not to let his fingers linger for too long when they brushed against the skin of Aziraphale’s hand as they exchanged the books. 

“Lift home?” Crowley asked after a moment. 

For once, Aziraphale was stunned into silence. A reel of images played in his mind like a film; crowds of expectant spectators at a sold-out opening night of Hamlet, Crowley rescuing him from the Bastille, the demon ignoring the burn of consecrated ground through sheer force of will just to save him and, now, his books. 

When it came down to it, Aziraphale had always loved Crowley. He had taken comfort in the fact that he is an _angel_ and is _supposed_ to love all of Her creations. The thought that he could love Crowley in a more specific way was something he had considered before but had kept in the far reaches of his mind like a shameful secret. As the thought began to break free, the feeling of love overwhelmed him in a not dissimilar way to the flames overwhelming the church. He tried not to consider the meaning of a church of the Lord burning to ash before his eyes as he realised that he is _in love_ with a _demon_.

Crowley turned to look over his shoulder as he advanced toward his Bentley and balked when he saw the look on Aziraphale’s face. He had been there when Stradivari made his violins. The small gasp from the angel’s lips as he looked at him reminded him of the music he’d heard played by those instruments. It resonated with love. 

He tore his eyes away and they wordlessly advanced on the Bentley together. Her lights glowed softly in the night, doing little to break up the thick dust of the explosion as it settled. Aziraphale sought out something, anything to alleviate the tension.

“You really should cover your headlights, dear, so they can’t be seen from the sky.” 

“Nobody is bombing my car,” Crowley hissed. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he manifested slatted covers on the Bently’s headlights to direct the light downwards. They were made of tartan fabric, visible in the firelight. 

"Tartan.” Crowley turned on him, “Really, Angel?”

Aziraphale refused to have a conversation about how the pattern in question was his specially-designed family tartan on the pavement with an ungrateful demon. He smiled at him instead and said simply, “Tartan is _nifty_!”

“Pft, could’ve just turned the lights off,” Crowley murmured as he opened the passenger-side door for Aziraphale, “Not like I need them to see properly, anyway.”

“You could hit an innocent bystander!” Aziraphale said wretchedly, “Regardless, you should be setting a good example to the humans."

Crowley crossed to his side of the car and got in, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m supposed to be setting a _bad_ example. I’m a demon. It’s what we _do_.”

Aziraphale clutched the bag of books close to his chest like it was a life preserver. It all came down to those words, didn't it? He was an angel, Crowley was a demon. That was all they could ever be to each other, and to pretend otherwise was foolhardy at best and outright dangerous at worst. Somewhere in the middle-distance, a bomb exploded taking Aziraphale’s train of thought with it.

They sat in stiff silence as Crowley navigated the pitch-black and deserted streets of London toward the bookshop. Aziraphale was so out-of-sorts that he didn't even chide Crowley for breaking the twenty mile per hour speed limit.

Another car shot out in front of them as they neared the shop. Crowley slammed the brakes. As Aziraphale’s heart rate slowed from the sudden jolt, he realised that his hand had instinctively reached out for something to hold on to to steady himself. It was currently gripping Crowley’s thigh. The Bentley wasn’t moving.

“Angel?” Crowley choked out.

Aziraphale snatched his hand away, “So sorry, I- I didn’t...”

“Wasn’t- ” Crowley took a steadying breath, “S'nice. Wasn’t a problem.”

Aziraphale glanced around them. It occurred to him that nobody would be able to see a thing under the cover of pitch-black darkness. He moved his hand back toward the demon slowly, giving time for Crowley to retract his statement. Neither spoke as he rested his hand on Crowley’s thigh. After a moment, Crowley began to drive forward again, this time more slowly.

Aziraphale knew he should be watching the road for pedestrians or perhaps keeping an eye out for errant cars but the feeling of Crowley’s thigh under his hand overwhelmed his senses. Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t want more and yet, as in all things, he was insatiable when it came to the demon. He also knew, to the core of his being, that Crowley would never deny him anything.

The angel slid his hand up Crowley’s thigh slowly, ever-so-slightly, causing him to swerve and clip the white painted kerb. The demon cursed. Then Crowley adjusted his body, moving forward just enough so that Aziraphale’s hand was further up his leg. The angel couldn’t help but think if either of them shifted just a few more inches...

Crowley whined quietly and Aziraphale settled his hand. Neither was quite sure what they were doing but both knew that now, out in the open, wasn’t the time to test these new and uncharted waters. As they pulled up outside the bookshop, Crowley’s hand dropped to cover Aziraphale’s hand as the demon breathed out a long, shuddering breath. All Aziraphale knew was he wasn’t ready for the night to end. It’d been so long since he’d last seen _his_ demon, even if he had no right to call him his own. 

“Come inside with me,” His voice was a whisper in the silence of the empty street, “please?”

“Sure, Angel,” Crowley said raspily. 

Aziraphale pulled his hand back and watched the rapid rise and fall of Crowley’s chest in the moonlight before he reached for the passenger-side door. He didn’t look back as he went to open the bookshop, but he heard the door of the Bentley shut behind him. He felt Crowley’s presence a few moments later and, as he fumbled with the key in the lock, the demon placed his hand on the small of his back.

Aziraphale paused in the threshold, unwilling to move and risk putting a stop to whatever was happening. Crowley pushed his back lightly and then stayed with him as they made their way through the door together. It clicked shut behind them. Aziraphale leaned forward slightly to let the bag of books drop to the floor before bolting the door behind them, a habit he had developed when the looting started, and paused to hang up his hat and coat.

“Should we put on a lamp or something?” Crowley asked, breaking the silence.

“Best not to be seen…” Aziraphale muttered feably, “Blackout and all that,” he added after an uncomfortably long pause. 

“Aziraphale...” Crowley began, unsure of what he wanted to say and unable to find the words. 

“I’ve missed you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in a hushed voice, “Missed you more than I thought it possible to miss another being. I have been so dreadfully lonely.”

“Missed you too,” Crowley replied.

“You came into a church to save me, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, “It’s not the first time you’ve rescued me...” The intonation of Aziraphale’s voice suggested he was asking a question, but the _why_ was silent. 

“Angel, what was _that_?” He replied seriously, gesturing in the direction of the car, “What are we doing here?”

He couldn’t quite see Crowley in the dark, but he could hear him. His breathing was heavy and erratic, and he heard movement that suggested the demon was fighting the urge to flee. Crowley was utterly terrified and Aziraphale needed to do something, anything to take that fear away from him. He reached out and clasped Crowley’s hand in his own before the demon could leave.

“We’re friends, Crowley,” Aziraphale answered with difficulty. Had Crowley been able to see him clearly at that moment, he would see that tears were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Right _._ ” Crowley replied curtly, his voice filled with pain and a hint of venom as he pulled his hand away.

He stood in silence, even now unwilling to move away from Aziraphale, trying to process what the angel had said. He had never acknowledged their friendship, not once in six thousand years. The use of this word now was a confession of sorts. However in this context, with the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand still lingering on his skin, it felt more like a denial.

“We are an angel and a demon who care very much for each other.” Aziraphale started before a distant explosion cut him off. 

“For tonight, at least, it’s unlikely that we will be seen in the darkness or heard over this commotion. What do you want us to be?” He continued. 

Crowley could feel his pulse throbbing all the way through his fingertips as he considered his answer. He thought of the look on Aziraphale’s face as he handed him his books and the angel’s plump hand latched onto his thigh. Love and desire coursed through his veins like whisky and made him bolder.

“Everything, Angel,” Crowley’s voice was strained, “Want everything I can’t have.”

“You can have whatever you’d like of me,” Aziraphale whispered as stepped forward to close the distance between them.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” Crowley choked, his voice full of doubt.

“Don’t I?” Aziraphale mumbled tenderly as he brought Crowley’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

Then he turned and used the grip he had on the demon’s hand to guide him toward the sofa. Aziraphale loosened his grip and sat down, leaving the decision about what would happen next to Crowley. A moment later, he felt Crowley’s weight hit the space beside him. Now, they were sitting close enough together that Aziraphale could feel the heat radiating from Crowley’s body. Aziraphale reached out for him, his hands first making contact with his jaw. The demon’s stubble felt like sandpaper as he brushed his fingers along his jawline. 

Crowley exhaled as Aziraphale mapped the contours of his face with his hands desperately, as if he had not had six thousand years to commit his features to memory. The angel paused as his thumb made contact with Crowley’s full lips, the weight of it resting on his lower lip parted them ever so slightly. 

“My dear, may I kiss you?” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Please,” was all Crowley managed in response.

Aziraphale moved his hand to rest on Crowley’s cheek and leaned forward to bring their lips together. At first they were both hesitant, restrained by the same anxiety that had prevented them from being together like this for centuries. As Crowley melted into the kiss, Aziraphale’s feelings rushed forward like water that had been restrained by a dam. He felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest. 

Crowley fumbled in the darkness, reaching for a handful of blond curls. He threaded his hands through the angel’s hair and pulled him closer, opening his mouth slightly to allow Aziraphale to deepen the kiss. His other hand reached out, searching, and found what it was looking for as he brushed Aziraphale’s hand. Their fingers slotted together, interlocking as if they’d always belonged together. 

Crowley clung to Aziraphale’s hand as if it were the solid rock against which he would weather his storm of emotions. His other hand gently ran through Aziraphale’s curls and somehow, inexplicably, Aziraphale was still kissing him. He let out a whimper as the angel pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Where had he learnt to do that? Aziraphale then ran his tongue across the inside of his lips, teasing his mouth open as he did so. 

Neither of them could tell if they spent minutes or hours like this, exploring each other’s mouths. They wouldn't have minded in the slightest if they'd been at it for weeks. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and breathed heavily as the angel sucked at his lips. Aziraphale was relentless and seemed to be paying particular attention to the spots that elicited the most enthusiastic responses from him. 

Crowley pulled his hand from Aziraphale’s hair and brought it to the small of his back, pulling their bodies closer together. In the darkness, the velvet of the angel's waistcoat was even softer than he could have imagined. In response, Aziraphale let his hand fall from Crowley’s cheek. It ghosted his neck and clavicle and came to a stop on Crowley’s chest. The angel's thumb rested on the edge of Crowley’s silk tie and the demon's heart pounded in his chest. 

Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the entire shop, rattling the glass of the windows. The bomb must have landed not far from where the two beings were currently intertwined on the sofa. Crowley felt Aziraphale tense against his body. The demon reluctantly pulled away and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand reassuringly.

“Everything ok?” He asked.

“More than,” Aziraphale responded quietly, “It’s just that you’re _rather_ distracting and I’m trying to prevent anything hitting the shop.”

 _Distracting._ Crowley grinned so widely at Aziraphale using that word, in that tone of voice, that if the angel had focused he may have been able to sense it. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that Aziraphale wanted _him_ , even if he knew that angel deserved far more. 

“Is the shop safe?”

“Always has been, that one was just extremely close.” Aziraphale moved his hand slightly to the right and wound his fingers around Crowley’s tie, pulling him toward him.

“Please, Crowley.”

The demon didn’t need to be asked twice. He closed the distance between them and continued kissing Aziraphale with a renewed fervour. Remembering what happened in the Bentley, Aziraphale fumbled for Crowley’s thigh.

“That’s my arm, Angel,” Crowley said with a chuckle. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand and guided it toward his thigh, “This what you were aiming for?”

“Yes, I mean, if that’s-” Aziraphale began.

“You remember my reaction when you had a handful of my thigh earlier?” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale settled his hand there and leaned forward to kiss him, slowly inching his hand upward as he squeezed the flesh of Crowley’s thigh. The demon moaned at the contact, and ran his hands across Aziraphale’s velvet-covered chest, pausing as his fingers brushed against the cool metal of its fastenings.

Crowley fiddled with the top button. "May I?" He whispered.

"Of course." 

Crowley made relatively quick work of the buttons, having somewhat better sight in the dark than Aziraphale. He paused before pulling it away, wanting to draw out the moment for as long as possible. He leaned forward to pepper kisses along Aziraphale’s jaw and down his neck as he pulled the waistcoat away from the blond's shoulders. Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s thigh as the demon focused his attention on his pulse point. 

Aziraphale tugged Crowley’s jacket, the fabric snagging on the demon's elbows. Crowley broke away for a moment and unceremoniously discarded the jacket to the floor. They were a tangle of limbs on the sofa as they explored each other with their hands, reveling in the sensations of soft fabric and heated flesh that were heightened by the darkness.

Crowley reached out to cup Aziraphale’s face in his hands and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. A plane flew overhead, and the sound of an approaching bomb grew louder as Aziraphale broke away. Crowley’s hands traced over Aziraphale’s lips delicately as if he were memorizing every line, hungry for anything he could take from this one night.

"I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered as the bomb hit.

The noise drowned out his words, hiding them from the world. This explosion was the closest yet and even caused a few books to clatter to the floor as the impact vibrated through the shelves. However, Crowley’s fingertips had never left Aziraphale’s lips. He’d felt the angel’s mouth move under his touch. Lip reading with light was easy, but Crowley didn’t dare believe what he thought Aziraphale had said in the darkness. Hope flared through him powered by Aziraphale’s tender kisses. It battled the angel’s earlier assertion of friendship. Hope was a dangerous thing for a demon to have, almost as dangerous as love for an angel. Nevertheless, Crowley had both.

Aziraphale ran his hands slowly down Crowley’s chest, seemingly luxuriating in the feeling of his dress shirt against his skin. The angel hooked his fingers into the loop of the tie, undid it, and placed it on the back of the sofa. He sucked at the demon’s neck as he pulled aside his suspenders, slowly undid his buttons, and pulled his shirt open. He ran his hands greedily across the now exposed skin of Crowley’s chest and exhaled heavily. 

As Aziraphale lifted his hand to undo his bowtie, Crowley reached for his wrist and gently squeezed it.

"Let me, Angel." He said desperately. 

Aziraphale dropped his hand, letting it fall somewhere on Crowley’s thigh, as the demon reached out to make short work of the bowtie. Taking his cue from Aziraphale, he gingerly placed it on the back of the sofa. As he undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s dress shirt he fought the growing urge to dispense of all of their clothing with a thought. 

He reasoned that Aziraphale, with his wariness of frivolous miracles, would prefer to be undressed in the human way. Neither of them needed to attract attention from their respective Head Offices to their current activities. Hell hardly paid attention, but he knew Heaven was more scrupulous with their records. Besides, going the slow way was not without its benefits, and he hoped that Aziraphale might enjoy undressing him too.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Fortunately, the angel was too occupied to worry about, or mention, creases at this moment in time. Even more so when Crowley began to trail kisses across his collarbone and let his hands explore the angel's bare chest and round stomach. 

As he continued his explorations, Crowley paid particular attention to Aziraphale’s thighs. He alternated between ghosting his hand across the fabric and pressing his fingers into the soft and receptive flesh he found there. Crowley spread his efforts, moving his hand up and down, each time stopping just short of where Aziraphale wanted him.

"Please, Crowley." Aziraphale pleaded.

"Relax," Crowley purred into the shell of his ear as he finally made contact with Aziraphale’s erection through his trousers.

Aziraphale bucked his hips, rubbing his length against Crowley’s hand as he sought out friction. The demon leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale tenderly without moving his hand. After a moment, he began fiddling with Aziraphale’s belt until it came undone and unbuttoned his flies. The angel whined as he moved his hands and freed his length. Crowley finally had his hand where Aziraphale wanted it.

He started gently working Aziraphale’s shaft with his fingers, moving up and down the length while circling his thumb around the tip. He slowly built up the pressure and speed of his movements, and began twisting his wrist as he moved his hand. Their kisses became increasingly sloppy as Aziraphale writhed beneath him, but they were still as tender as their first chaste contact. 

Aziraphale reached out and Crowley’s breath hitched in his throat as the angel made contact with his own half-hard erection. 

"Allow me, darling," Crowley whispered his voice horse with lust.

"I-" Aziraphale started.

"You can have your turn," Crowley said warmly.

Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale’s neck reverentially as he continued the movement of his hand. A moment later he felt Aziraphale’s hand against his own as the angel guided him, setting the pace that felt best. Eventually, Aziraphale’s hand fell away and ended with an audible thud as the angel reached out to grasp at the edge of the sofa. 

They continued this way, Crowley ravishing Aziraphale with kisses and working him with his fist, until the angel was incoherent and breathing heavily under his touch. He wished he could see the angel's face as he built him to climax. Judging by the exquisite sounds he was making, he was close. Crowley was now painfully erect in the confines of his trousers.

Aziraphale arched his back, bucking his hips into Crowley’s hand as he thrashed underneath him. He moaned out Crowley’s name as he came undone with a jolt, spilling into his lap and over Crowley’s hand. Crowley eased the weight of his hand on Aziraphale’s sensitive shaft and worked him through his orgasm.

“My dear…” Aziraphale rasped. Crowley quietened him with a fond kiss before breaking away.

There was another explosion. Even closer this time, too close. Crowley threw up a demonic miracle to overlay Aziraphale’s own ward and protect the bookshop, but the flash of light from the explosion filtered through the thin fabric Aziraphale hung at the windows and half-illuminated the angel’s face. He wore a similar expression to the one that had crossed his face in the ruins of the church. It was a look of love. Before Crowley had a chance to even open his mouth to speak, the light had faded.

Aziraphale gripped the lapels of Crowley’s open shirt and pulled him into another kiss. He wasted no time in dropping to his knees on the floor in front of the sofa. The angel ran his hands over the soft fabric of Crowley’s thighs, which both helped to guide him in this new position and elicited delightful moans from the demon.

Aziraphale unclipped the suspenders and undid the button of Crowley’s trousers. As the angel hooked his fingers into the waistband, Crowley lifted his hips slightly to allow Aziraphale to pull down his trousers and underwear with one movement. In the temporary quiet of the night, Crowley heard Aziraphale wetting his lips. Had his mind not been entirely elsewhere, he might even have made a sarcastic remark about how eager Aziraphale was to use his mouth.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” Aziraphale rasped. 

Crowley’s heart jumped in his chest. He tried to quieten it but the proverbial devil on his shoulder whispered that Aziraphale had been thinking of him like _that_ and wanted him too. He dared to think that despite the denials they were- All his thoughts vanished at a single touch from Aziraphale. He’d known the angel’s hands were soft, of course, just as supple as the rest of him. It was just that even his vivid imagination hadn’t accounted for how the pads of his fingers and palm would feel wrapped around his cock. Nor had he thought that Aziraphale would twist his wrist quite like that as he stroked him. He threw his head back and gasped.

Aziraphale felt a flash of apprehension as he leaned forward. This was something that he’d wanted to do for so long that was, should be, utterly forbidden to him. He tentatively darted his tongue out and licked a line down Crowley’s erection. He felt him shudder at the contact. Despite his intentions, he was unable to wait any longer, so he closed his mouth around Crowley and eased his length into his mouth until it bottomed out at the back of his throat. He hummed with satisfaction as he began to bob his head, lavishing his shaft with his tongue as he did so.

Crowley blasphemed as Aziraphale sucked in his cheeks and picked up the pace, swallowing Crowley’s entire length with each movement. He was nearly undone by the warm wetness of Aziraphale’s mouth and the tenderness with which he devoted himself to the task. Aziraphale was savouring him in a not dissimilar way to the way he might savour his favourite dessert, teasing pleasure from him with deliberate, adoring movements and the darkness heightened every sensation to the point of ecstasy. 

As Crowley began to squirm, Aziraphale pressed his hands lightly into the demon’s thighs to steady him as he continued working his shaft. Crowley sucked in a breath as Aziraphale caught his skin with his teeth, and the angel paused and planted a kiss on the very same spot. He adjusted his mouth ever so slightly so the plush flesh of his lips covered his teeth and continued licking and sucking until Crowley was whimpering. 

Aziraphale bought a hand up to work Crowley’s balls, massaging them until he felt them draw up in his hand. He licked the underside of his shaft, moving his mouth to suck on the head, licking circles around the slit as he did so. A few moments later, Crowley jerked and came down his throat. Aziraphale kept his mouth there through his orgasm, releasing Crowley from his mouth when he felt his body still beneath his hands. Aziraphale swallowed Crowley’s spend and cleaned the residue from around his mouth with his tongue. 

He clambered back on to the sofa and wrapped his muscular arms around the slouching demon. They sat in silence, each catching their breath and unable to decide what they should say to their hereditary enemy-turned-friend-turned-lover after having sex for the first time. Over the centuries Aziraphale had adopted certain earthly practises. Sleep was not one of them. However, the comfort of Crowley’s loving embrace eventually lulled him into a soft slumber. Conversely the demon, who was usually a big fan of sleep, remained wide awake. The memory of Aziraphale’s touch flowed through him like electricity and energised him and, truthfully, he expected their time together to be brief. He wanted to make the most of what he had, now, with the angel wrapped in his arms.

Crowley moved his hand to gently thread his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls as he watched him sleep. He let out a contented sigh and did a double-take when he noticed with both concern and amusement that Aziraphale seemed to be _glowing_. On Earth, angels glowed whenever they forgot themselves and their true form spilled out of their corporation. Crowley had seen it happen before, but not like this. Aziraphale’s divinity shone through the darkness like a beacon.

“Would have been helpful about an hour ago,” he murmured fondly as he planted a kiss on the sleeping angel’s forehead.

After far too short a time, a loud knock rattled the door of the bookshop, disturbing the delicate post-coital haze that surrounded them. The angel’s eyes opened instantly and his light extinguished as he sat up with a start. As Aziraphale moved to get up, Crowley clung to him and refused to let go.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, “It’s them. They’re _here_.”

Crowley was frozen in terror. All he could think of was that _they_ had come. Heaven or Hell, ultimately it didn’t matter which, they were both capable of unspeakable things. The demon cursed himself. He had gone too far and taken too much. He had been foolish and reckless and endangered his angel with his greed. Suddenly, the burning alter which resembled wings ablaze seemed like a grim portent. For once, Crowley was all out of grand ideas to rescue Aziraphale. If She made him Fall there would be nothing he could do to stop Her.

Another knock pierced the silence. Crowley still had a vice-like grip on Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“Allow me, dear” Aziraphale leaned forward and planted a defiant kiss on Crowley’s forehead, “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Aziraphale, no!” Crowley tried to keep his grip on Aziraphale as he pulled away, but the angel was too strong for him.

Aziraphale grabbed a coat and wrapped it hurriedly around himself as he strode toward the door. The sound of the bolt clicking in the door broke through Crowley’s stupor and without a second thought he was on his feet and following Aziraphale. The angel sighed and opened the door, leaving it ajar so that Crowley remained unseen behind it. Whatever was on the other side, Aziraphale was determined that no harm would come to either of them for the evening’s activities. 

“Good evening!” Aziraphale said cheerfully, a disingenuous smile plastered on his face.

“Please keep your lights off, sir. We are in a blackout, you know, and even if the worst of it seems to be over for tonight there was quite a bit of light leaking from your curtains.” said a voice Crowley didn’t recognise. It was pompous, stern, and extremely human. Crowley’s heart seemed to resume its unnecessary beating in his chest. Relief washed over him. It was just a nosy human, not a being coming to drag an angel away for daring to touch a demon.

“So sorry, I’ll be more careful in the future,” Aziraphale responded brightly as he shut the door in the human’s face, with a force that was barely on the angelic side of slamming.

Crowley collapsed against the wall behind him with a grateful sigh and slid down to the ground where he held his knees in his arms. A dry sob escaped his lips. Aziraphale slid the bolt in place and then turned to face Crowley. He couldn’t quite make the demon out from the dark shadows in front of him, but as he reached out his hand Crowley’s fingers brushed against his. The angel ran his fingers down the length of an arm and gave a soft cry as he found Crowley on the floor. Wordlessly, Aziraphale carefully lifted him into his arms. His demon was safe there. Aziraphale pulled him closer and reminded himself that, for now at least, there was nothing he needed to guard him from. As the moments passed, Crowley’s heavy and erratic breathing eventually slowed. 

“Your coat’s a bit rough on the skin, Angel. Would you mind…” 

“Sly demon, trying to undress me again so soon?” Aziraphale’s half-hearted attempt at humour fell flat and Crowley said nothing. The angel released Crowley from his embrace, pulled the jacket away from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. 

“We should discuss...” Aziraphale began.

“I wish we didn’t have to, but that blasted human nearly discorporated me.” Crowley groaned.

Crowley fiddled with the buttons on his shirt as he closed them, more out of a need to give his hands something to do than of a desire to be covered up. He ran the words he wanted to, needed to, say through his mind several times before he opened his mouth to speak. He struggled to get the words out, as if somehow his body was responding physically to his mind’s desire to draw this night out for as long as possible and delay what seemed inevitable. 

“If they catch us, Aziraphale, they will _destroy_ you.” He whispered.

“I know.”

“They could make you Fall, they could-”

“I _know,_ ” Aziraphale interrupted Crowley again with a gentle voice, “and they would do the same to you.”

“I’m already Fallen, Angel, what else can they do to me?” 

“I’m terrified of losing you, too,” Aziraphale paused, “last time you mentioned Hell’s management techniques you disappeared for nearly a century.”

“S’fine. I can handle them.” Despite his words, Aziraphale heard Crowley wince.

“You chide me when I so much as hint at your kindness, Crowley. How can you claim to be fine with me professing my love for you?” Aziraphale replied.

“Your wha-” Crowley spluttered.

Aziraphale could not see the look of shock and awe on his face as he processed his thoughts. The demon was near paralyzed as he attempted to comprehend the incomprehensible. How could an angel love him, as if he was worthy of being loved? How could Aziraphale say those words so casually, as if he had said them before? In the quagmire of his mind, he located the memory of Aziraphale’s lips under his fingers and of the waves of hope and love he had felt when he thought that the angel had said _that word_.

“The bomb.” He mumbled as a question.

“You couldn’t hear me over the explosion,” Aziraphale murmured as he reached for Crowley’s hand, “Oh, my dear boy.”

Aziraphale threaded his fingers between Crowley’s and closed the distance between them. He pulled their intertwined hands toward his chest, so close that they could both feel the pounding of the angel’s heart, and he leaned forward to whisper the truth that was only safe between the two of them.

“I love you, Crowley.”

“Love you too,” The demon mumbled in response, “that only makes this more dangerous.”

“Shadows,” Aziraphale said brightly as an idea came to him, “If we stick to the darkness and are discrete, I think we could continue…”

Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He wanted to ask what had changed tonight, in the church, but decided that would be a conversation for another time. Another night in the shadows. He was still a doubtful and anxious being, and was certain that even in the darkness their auras may as well be neon signs, but as he nuzzled into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and his senses became overwhelmed with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla a great deal of his reservations melted away. He fought his instincts and pulled Aziraphale into his embrace instead of pushing him away. 

They both held out for as long as they could, standing wrapped in each other's arms in the entrance of the bookshop. As daylight began to break into the shop, Aziraphale pulled away and bent down to gather his remaining clothes. Crowley picked up his jacket and put his hat back on in silence. They both paused when fastening their respective ties, letting their gazes linger on the other in the light of day. Aziraphale gave Crowley one last kiss before abruptly pulling the curtains open and letting the daylight in.

* * *

**Soho, 2019**

The door to the bookshop clicked shut behind them and it was Crowley who slid the lock into place, this time. Neither of them said anything, but within moments they were within each other’s arms. Aziraphale placed his hand on the small of Crowley's back, pulling him close, and their lips met in a tender kiss. After decades of their new arrangement, this one with a lowercase a, kissing was a force of habit. Nevertheless, each embrace still felt brand new.

Aziraphale broke away to reach instinctively for the light switch by the door. Crowley intercepted his hand, holding it tightly in his own. He hoped that now Armageddon had been averted, now that neither Heaven nor Hell were paying attention, they no longer had to hide in the shadows. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

“I want to see you.” Crowley pleaded, discarding his sunglasses emphatically. 

“I can now, right? They can all see. I don’t _care_. I need to see you Aziraphale.” He continued.

“I’m- well I’m not much to look at I’m afraid.” Aziraphale swallowed. 

Crowley began peppering Aziraphale’s face with kisses, “Beautiful. You’re beautiful. Every part of you. I’ve been waiting so long to just look at you.”

Aziraphale lifted Crowley by the lapels and backed him into the wall, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He pressed his body into the demon’s to keep him in place and nipped at his earlobe as he reached the buttons of his shirt. That night, and for all the nights following it, the lights were left on when the two of them were together. 

**Author's Note:**

> We feed on your kudos and comments. I'm on Twitter @IneffableBadger and Caspian is @CaspianTheGeek


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